Trash Can Lids and Empty Coffee Pots
by 627-OrganizedChaos
Summary: Led by a fifty word challenge from the Ranger's Apprentice forum Men in Tights. Fifty short stories, fifty prompt words. (or so I think, things might work out differently) A good mix of angst, humor, action, and fluff! This probably will mostly consist of Peter Parker and Ironman, because I'm a sucker for Irondad! Rated T for possible future content. (and 'cause I'm paranoid)
1. Hit Over The Head with A Trash Can Lid

_A/N: Hello! This is a fifty word challenge, suggested to me by fellow writer yellow16. We are the only active members of the Men in Tights forum, for the Ranger's Apprentice book series. (If you're a fan, definitely come join, we're bored out of our minds in here -_- ) Here's the gist. There's a list of fifty words_

_You can either use one word per chapter or if you feel like you want to melt your brain, all words in one story. (I tried that, let me tell you, it was messy...) I'm probably going to do a bunch of one shots, possibly two shots. (I doubt it though) I guess that's it…_

_Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own any of Marvel_

**Word one: Afraid**

Tony was in the middle of testing one of his more, _dangerous_ ideas when he got the message.

"Sir?" FRIDAY spoke, her voice as urgent as an AI could manage. No answer came from the desk, the whirring machines and AC/DC covering up her artificial voice.

_I was caught, in the middle of a railroad track..._

Louder, FRIDAY persisted. "_Sir!_"

_I looked round, and I knew there was no turning back..._

Tony signed, pushing away the blaster and turning down the music.

"What is it FRI?" He rubbed his face, trying to wake up a bit. When was the last time he actually slept? Well, that wasn't important. Coffee was a suitable substitute for sleep. Or at least _he_ thought so. Pepper made it clear she didn't share his opinion.

"Peter Parker's consciousness level is rapidly dropping." Tony tilted his head. It wasn't like Peter to fall asleep in his suit.

"FRIDAY, where is Peter?" The sleep deprived inventor's voice growing in urgency.

"In an alleyway on the northside of Queens, sir." Tony frowned,

"Is he all right?" The AI's response was hesitant.

"He seems to have no lasting physical damage." Tony's voice rose an octave and he stood up.

"No lasting physical damage? What does that mean?" FRIDAY paused, Tony was already halfway into his suit, the red and gold metal folding over his arms and legs.

"Peter Parker has obtained several bruises and has hit his head, causing a possible concussion, Karen is scanning for other injuries, but it seems that nothing else is wrong." The suit's visor flipped down, and Iron Man's eyes lit with a familiar blue glow. Tony looked at the time in the corner of his retinal display, 11:42. His frown got deeper.

"FRIDAY, how long has he been there?"

"Peter has not moved for twenty-one minutes."

Tony cursed. What had the kid gotten into this time? A tiny tendril of fear wormed its way into his mind, and he shook it out. He was Tony Stark, _Ironman_. Ironman doesn't get afraid. Besides, Peter would be fine, right? He was a superhuman teenager, who made brash decisions, stayed out too late and was too innocent for this world.

Yeah, Peter would be fine.

-o-

Tony touched down in a dirty alley, scanning the area for a kid in red and blue spandex. Thank goodness for the bright costume, it was easy to spot him in the dreary gray and brown environment. Peter was slumped against a dirty brick wall in a sitting position, mask still on. Across from him were four unconscious men, held to the wall with extra strong webbing. Tony took a moment to study the men. All were wearing casual street clothes in dark colours. Two had baseball caps shadowing their faces and one man had his hoodie up obscuring his face as well. Determining them as no threat he turned back to the young superhero.

"Peter, Peter! Wake up!" Tony shook the kid's shoulders, and got no response. The billionaire started to panic."Kid! Wake up!" The frantic raised voice finally woke Peter up. He jolted, sitting up and whipping his head around. Tony let go of his breath, not realizing he had been holding it in the first place.

Peter's eyes widened as the fixed on Tony, crouching next to him fully clad in his red and gold suit, visor up, showing a worried face. He blinked a couple times, trying to process why Mr. Stark would be _here_ of all places. He gasped, realizing what happened.

"M-mister Stark! What are you doing here?"

Tony frowned, "You haven't moved for half an hour! When I got a call from FRIDAY that you were unconscious, I flew over."

Peter's eyes widened even more, (How was that even possible?)

"I've been out for that long?" He started scrabbling to to get up. "What time is it!"

Tony pushed the frantic kid down.

"Peter, it's midnight-"

"_What! _Crap, May's gonna kill me!"

Tony sighed, still holding down the struggling teen.

"Yeah, and your aunt is going to kill _both_ of us if you're hurt."

Peter paused, then slumped back down.

"Point proven."

Tony sighed,

"So what happened? FRIDAY said you hit your head."

"Well, I was heading home from patrol when I saw him," He pointed to a man with a greasy, pockmarked face and a ratty Black Sabbath sweatshirt."and him." This time it was the hooded man in a dark grey sweatshirt. "They looked kinda fishy, so I followed them into this alley, where these three were smoking."

Tony nodded,

"And then what? They're just four men smoking in an alley. People smoke all the time." Peter nodded,

"I thought that too, until Blondie said something about a drop off point. Kinda like-"

Tony held a hand up to stop the rambling kid.

"Who?"

Peter blushed, realizing that Tony had know idea who he was talking about. Pointing to each man in turn, he hurriedly explained the names.

First was a fellow with a dirty face to match his dirty blond face and the Black Sabbath sweatshirt."I named him Blondie because, well," He waved his hands around helplessly. "he's blond!" Peter pointed to a man with several large chains both gold and silver draped around his stubby neck. Clearly he had no fashion sense, Tony thought.

"He was Chains." Peter said. "He's Walrus" This was a man with awfully crooked teeth an an evident potbelly.

"I can see the resemblance." Peter grinned. "And this," The exhausted teenager said, "is Slick!" Tony frowned. Even unconscious, he didn't like the look of the final man.

He had a pale face and black hair that looked like it was slicked back with motor oil. He seemed to have a permanent sneer on his face.

Tony turned back to Peter. "Kid, what happened?"

Peter continued. "Well, I dropped down into the middle of there group like _what's up guys, hope you're not doing anything illegal_. They did the classic 'you don't want any part in this kid'. I said something and they charged at me."

Tony frowned. He was doing a lot of that lately. "So? You can take on four men with anger issues and over inflated egos easily."

Peter grinned, "Thanks! But these guys had knives, so I had to dodge those too. As I was fighting the walrus dude, Slick crept up behind me."

Tony scowled, he knew nothing good would come out of that greasy weasel.

The teenager continued "My spidey sense was constantly buzzing, I guess because they were all trying to hurt me at the same time." The billionaire bristled. He was surprised by how much anger he felt. Tony wanted to lock these thugs up so they never saw the light of day again. His breathing came heavier an he dug his nails into his palm, focusing on the pain instead of the fear for Peter. Peter was _fine_. After all, the kid was standing in front of him right now.

"I didn't notice him until after he kinda hit me in the head with a trash can lid."

"_What_!"

He rubbed his head. "Yeah, I finished the fight but got a little dizzy and decided to sit down. I guess that's when I passed out."

Tony shook his head. "Peter you scared me. Just give me a call if you get hurt. Happy can pick you up or something."

The teen nodded quite vigorously, then winced and stopped, putting a hand to his head. "Guess I'm not _all_ healed up yet huh Mr. Stark?"

Tony snorted. Looking down at his watch, he cursed. A blinking 12:20 flashed back at him. "How late exactly can Spider-Man stay out on a school night?"

Peter frowned. "Eleven, why?" His eyes widened. "Crap! What time is it?!"

"Twelve twenty-one." Spider-Man jumped up to a nearby window ledge.

"Thanks for everything Mr. Stark! I'll be more careful next time."

"Kid it wasn't your fault-" But the Amazing Spider-Man was already gone, a bright blue and red figure, bouncing from one rooftop the another.

Tony yawned, not realizing he had been so tired. It seemed worrisome weight lifted lifted off his shoulders. Maybe he would get some sleep tonight. Peter was fine. There was no reason to be afraid. Everything was fine.

_Note: This challenge was, ahem, borrowed from a Harry Potter forum, so there are some spell words and other oddities in the list somewhere. I'm not sure what I'll do with those, but…_

_I'LL FIGURE SOMETHING OUT._

_(fingers crossed 0-0)_


	2. Pressure

_A/N: *inhuman screech* Guys! GUYS! I'm kinda freaking out, because Spider-Man Far From Home comes out IN A WEEK! AAAHHHH! (and a couple days after my birthday… yesss ) I'm a HUGE Spider-Man fan and I NEED to watch this!_

_Anyhoo…_

_Thank you to anybody who has read this! And special thanks to , FanGirlForever19 and Korin no Hana for reviewing, favoriting or following! _

_WARNING! THIS CONTAINS ENDGAME SPOILERS!_

_READ AT YOUR OWN RISK! AAAAAAAHHHHHH!_

_Are we good?_

_Ok._

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Marvel Universe characters, events, anything. _

**Word Two: Pressure**

As soon as Captain America stepped out of the pod, a supersoldier, he could feel the heavy blanket of expectations and pressure throughout the room.

Steve was supposed to be a hero.

Steve was supposed to be a loyal Patriot.

But most importantly, Steve wasn't supposed to make mistakes.

The problem was, no one's perfect, so when he did mess up, it stung twice as bad.

What Steve regretted most was what he did to Tony.

When Tony snapped his fingers, Steve finally truly saw what was behind that red and gold suit of armor. It wasn't just a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist. No, it was much more.

He saw a hero, one braver than him. Willing to give up his own life, his own future for all of the universe. He saw a man, still fighting his childhood demons, trying to hide a teeming mass of emotions behind an iron mask. A father, of not just a young daughter, but a son too. A husband.

Someone suffering from layers and layers of trauma, yet putting the past behind him for his friends. Creating dozens of new inventions, weapons, and technology for the Avengers without a single thank you. Tony Stark had figured out the time travel. For Steve. For the universe. For his son.

And most of all, someone with twice as much heart as Steve. He was wrong about Tony. But when Ironman took his last breath and closed his eyes for the last time, Steve saw.

Tony had forgiven him. And several tons of guilt and pressure had lifted off his shoulders.

After all that Steve had done to him, the verbal hits, keeping the truth about his parents death from him, almost beating Tony to _death_.

Tony had still forgiven him.

And when he had finally returned all the Infinity Stones, he had remembered what Tony had said to him. To go get that life.

And he had.

As soon as Steve saw Peggy's beautiful face there was no pressure left. No pressure to be perfect. No pressure to be a flawless soldier. He could just _be_.

Then he had passed on the shield to Sam, almost regretting the expectations and pressure he would give the young man. Sam was ready though, and hopefully he would not make as many mistakes as Steve did. But he would never forget Tony, and he would never treat someone like that again. Perhaps you _can_ teach an old dog new tricks.

_A/N: Sooo yeah, not entirely happy with this one. I just kept trying to fix it, but I was really just overthinking it. Eventually I was just like, _dang it I'll just publish it so I can work on the next one_. I know, I know this was a short one. REALLY short. But I liked the idea. I've never written about Steve before, so this was a new (but not entirely unwelcome) experience._

_Anyways, I'm going on a camping trip in two days and might write during the LONG car ride, but other than that, I won't be able to publish anything. I might post another, say…_

_The end of the second week of July? Maybe?_

_Thanks for the support guys and happy summer!_


	3. Fish Guts and Potato Peels

_A/N: Hi guys! Thank you for all your support and special thanks to , FanGirlForever19, Korin no Hana, and DreamCatcher06 for reviewing, favoriting or following! And guys, 120 views? That's awesome! As promised this one is longer that our last little failure. And of course, it has our lovely Peter Parker in it! I had a lot of fun with this one, and I hope you do too! _

**Word three: Garbage**

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Marvel characters or plots. This writing is purely for my entertainment and not for profit,

The scream of a woman a little while away woke Spider-Man from his daydreaming. Jumping into action, he shot a web out, swinging onto the brick wall of a building right above the alley where the cry had emanated from. A young woman was cornered by three guys in skullcaps and ratty clothes.

"So 'ya see doll" said the man closest to the cowering woman. "You could just gimme all your valuables," He pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and flicked it open. "Or else things might get a little messy. And we don't want that, do we boys?" The other two grinned and cracked their knuckles. "We don't want to hurt your pretty little face."

Peter knew this was the time to step in before anyone got hurt.

"Hey fellas! I don't know, things might just get a little messy for you!" Startled, they turned around, only for one man to get a face full of web. Yeah, things were going to get a little messy. The man went down with a screech, clawing and ripping at the web with sheer terror. The other two thugs backed away from their struggling friend, eyes turned towards the masked vigilante.

Peter launched off the building, landing right in front of the petrified thugs. He opened his mouth, about to give another witty remark when.

_Splat!_

Spider-Man had been hit in the head with a mushy, rotten apple. He stumbled back, not from the impact but from the shock of having garbage thrown at his face. Following the flight path of the fruit he saw the woman, chucking stuff from one of the big, industrial sized garbage cans lining the alley. She continued to throw garbage, fruit, cans, wrappers. It was kinda weird. Until an aluminum soda can hit one of the thugs on the back of the neck. Peter winced with sympathy, those things could be sharp. He knew, Flash had thrown plenty of those at him.

The woman was trying to hit the men with the slimy projectiles, not Spider-Man. But she didn't have very good aim, so plenty of trash still hit Peter. And it always seemed to be the most putrid, rotten and disgusting of the trash. Great.

Still dodging garbage here and there, he ignored the woman and turned back to the thugs. The man he had originally shot down had clawed himself free of the web and was now staring at Peter with a murderous glare on his face. He had also donned a pair of wicked brass knuckles with spikes on each knuckle.

That wasn't good.

Switchblade man pulled out _another_ switchblade, and started to advance on Peter, a knife in each hand. The last guy started to swing a blackjack around. Clearly these thugs had experience. That _also_ wasn't good.

Dropping down into a fighting stance, Peter swung his leg out, sweeping blackjack man's legs off the ground. He fell on his face with a thump and Peter winced. The man had fallen into his blackjack, the leather covered metal rod driving into his stomach. While Spider-Man webbed his comrade to the pavement with plenty of extra strong webbing. Switchblade man snuck behind Peter and raised his arm to stab Spider-Man in the back of the neck. But Peter was ready for it.

Whipping around he swung his fist up, knocking the knife from his hand and kicking the thug in the stomach lightly. Though using minimal force the man still flew across the alley and hit the other wall. Peter cursed himself. With his super strength, he had to be careful to not hurt anybody. One good hard punch could snap a man's spine. And Peter could _never_ forgive himself if he killed someone, accident or not.

Webbing the man to the wall where he landed, Peter turned to the last thug who was running at him, brass knuckles glinting in the slowly dimming sunlight.

"Damn kid! I'll get you for this!" Peter let him run a little closer, then flipped over the raging man easily, landing and shooting two webs which wrapped around the man like a mummy, pinning his arms to his side. Balance lost, the man teetered and then toppled to the ground, where Peter wound his two legs together, and fastened more webs, in order to keep the thug on the ground.

The shiny brass knuckles caught the teen's eye, and he slipped them off the red-faced man, pausing to shoot a web over the guy's mouth. That thankfully stopped the string of obscenities streaming from the red faced criminal.

"Hey Karen?"

"Yes Peter?" The AI responded. Peter thought he imagined a hint of pride in Karen's voice, but that was silly. Karen was just an AI, she didn't have emotions, she wasn't human.

"Um, these knuckles are really cool, I kind of want to keep them. Can you maybe not tell Mr. Stark about that? I don't know if he wants me to have a pair of brass knuckles with spikes on them."

"Of course Peter." Peter sighed in relief, but Karen wasn't done.

"But Mr. Stark has your safety in mind, and told me to warn him if you came across anything dangerous."

"N-no, no!" Peter laugh nervously. "They're not dangerous, of course I won't use them. They, they just look cool!"

Silence continues his plead, and it seemed Karen was considering that. He decided to play the friend card.

"I just, I just wanted to show Ned cause he would think they're really cool!"

More silence. Then after a nail-biting amount of time. "Okay Peter, I won't tell Mr. Stark." Peter whooped and punched his fist in the air.

"Thanks Karen! You're the best!" He slipped them on and punched a few times at an imaginary enemy. Until someone cleared their throat behind him. It was Garbage Lady. She wiped her slimy hands on her slacks.

"Spider-Man? Aren't you going to call the authorities?" Peter slowly lowered his fist in embarrassment.

"Uh, y-yeah! Karen? Can you call the nearest police department?"

"Of course Peter, what do you want me to say?"

Umm, tell them that three muggers were apprehended, and could you give them the location? Also, uh, tell them that no bystanders were hurt."

"Okay, do you want me to say the message was sent by Spider-Man?"

"Sure, I guess." A box popped up on his visor saying _Message Sent_. Peter grinned, his job done. He turned to Garbage Lady.

"Are you alright ma'am?"

She just stared at him.

"Ma'am?"

His louder question snapped her out of her gaze. Instead of answering the question she just pointed to him and said.

"You're covered in trash." Peter blushed as he looked down and realized that his entire costume was covered in rotten goo. She wrinkled her nose. "And you smell too." He sniffed the air and winced. His enhanced senses picking up the smell quite well even through the mask. Just wait till he got home. Trying to explain this to Aunt May would be…

It would be fun alright.

Peter was kind of peeved though. Who's fault was it that he was covered in garbage? Garbage Lady. He looked up to find that same lady walking off, wiping her hand with a baby wipe.

Still annoyed, Peter just called out. "You're welcome!" The lady just kept walking.

Peter sighed and leapt up onto the brick wall, crawling to the top of the building. Before he could shoot a web to the next building, some flashing text showed up on his visor screen.

WARNING: LOW WEB FLUID

Peter sighed and checked his levels. He should have enough to get home. Shooting a web onto the next building, he started to swing across Queens. Until his web fluid ran out. In mid air, Peter shot his next web, only to have a measly two foot strand squirt out and start floating downwards. It was then that Peter remembered about gravity. He was four stories above the ground, and he was falling fast. Peter yelled, arms and legs flailing. Even with his enhanced durability, falling at this height would hurt. He didn't want to become a Spider-man shaped grease spot on the sidewalk.

_Floomf._

Thankfully Peter had landed on something black and soft. He had landed on garbage bags. Unfortunately, those shiny lifesavers had also split open, showering Spider-Man with _more_ putrid trash.

Wasn't today a lucky day.

Now Spider-Man had to walk home. And explain to Aunt May why he way covered from head to toe in fish guts and potato peels.

_A/N: Yay! I had __loads_ _of fun writing this one! I actually finished this one in one sitting! (aka: one very long car ride. In fact, I actually got __two_ _done just on the ride up!) _

_Now onto a more serious topic: language. Specifically foul language. I do not like to curse. I try to avoid cursing as much as possible in my stories. But! There are sometimes that cursing is necessary to add the tone I want. However, when there is cursing I will try to keep it on the mellower side, okay? Sorry for this huge mouthful of words, it's just something I had to get across._

_Sooo…_

_Yeah._

_Bye!_


	4. The Pink Paper of Peril

_A/N: *muffled screaming* I'M SEEING SPIDER-MAN FAR FROM HOME TOMORROW! WOOOHOOO! *cough* sorry…_

_Yes, more Peter Parker. But guys! This word was just screaming "AAAHHH HIGH SCHOOL SUPERHERO!" *sigh* Hope you all like Spider-Man! _

_Thank you to , FanGirlForever19, Korin no Hana, DreamCatcher06, I.D.'s Fantasy, SweetWritingIsMyLife, erinjoypangelinan, Hidden Circumstance, yupimstillhere, Sundance3.14, JaxketSniffer, and Muscletomcat, for reviewing, favoriting or following! Sorry If missed some of you guys last time, my phone doesn't give me ALL of you, only some of the notifications and I have to look at the stats on my computer for the rest I honestly have no idea why. Anyhoo, definitely please review, I love getting them and It encourages me to write faster! _

_And guys! Cricket World Cup Final is tomorrow (by the time I post this it'll be like 3:00 or so in the morning but...)! I don't know if any of you follow cricket, but I'm excited! Although I support South Africa, (who didn't do very well) I'll be cheering for England, sorry New Zealand!_

**Word Four: Detention**

The Pink Paper of Peril

Disclaimer: I do _not_ own any Marvel characters, plots, or places. Writing is purely for my entertainment and I don't make _any_ money off this.

-o-

Peter was desperately trying to stay awake during his classes. But for a teenage superhero, sleep was few and far between Even with this new curfew Aunt May had set up, 11:00 on school nights and 1:00 on weekends. Peter still was exhausted during his classes. And last night, he had gotten home an hour later than he was supposed to, because of an apartment fire.

Thankfully, Spider-Man had swung selflessly into the burning building. (according to starstruck bystanders) And in no less than a minute later leapt out through the second story window carrying three adults and a crying infant. That wasn't true. It had taken him at least five minutes to find the people. (They were on all different levels) And he only rescued two adults and a small toddler. Peter was quite proud of the sling he had made from the same webs he had made that hammock out of. That held the squirming, sobbing toddler to his chest extremely well, but is was quite awkward to get off. Especially in front of the kid's parents, two firefighters, a policeman and and EMT. Yeah.

After that adventure, Peter had swung home, and lungs still burning from all that smoke, collapsed into bed just as a frantic May nearly kicked the door to his room down. Whatever sleep he could cram in wasn't enough, because Peter was slowly drifting off in the middle of a lecture. Social Studies was the only class Peter didn't have with Ned, so he didn't have his trusty guy in the chair to shake him awake or pinch him every time his head bobbed too low. His eyelids felt like sandpaper,

Eventually sweet sleep called to him like an irresistible siren's song and Peter's eyes slid shut, head resting on his arms.

-o-

"Mr. Parker! _Mr. Parker_!"

Peter looked up and slowly opened his sticky eyes to see a scary sight. Ms. Taylor was leaning over him, face pulled into a scowl, lecture stick tapping against his desk. He jerked upright, still not completely awake and stumbled through a hasty apology.

"M-mrs. Taylor! W-what, I'm so sorry! I just, kinda fell asleep and-"

Mrs. T was done with her student's excuses. "Mr. Parker, this is the _third_ time you have fallen asleep _this week_. I expect a detention Afterschool today will help you rethink your sleeping schedule. Do you understand?" Blushing Peter nodded and realized he had been drooling on his desk.

Superheroes don't drool!

The stern teacher shot a disapproving look to the rest of the class, who were giggling and whispering. Peter knew by the end of the day everyone would know that "Penis Parker" was caught sleeping in class. And Flash, who was in Peter's social studies class, would be the first to talk about it.

Lovely.

Peter forced his open for the last twenty or so minutes of class, but it took all of his strength. (And he had _a lot_ of strength.) Finally, the bell rang. And to Peter, no sound was sweeter. He waited until everyone had left the classroom before shuffling his sore and aching body up to Mrs. Taylor's desk. Before he could take the bright pink pass from her outstretched fingers, she pulled it back and placed it on her desk.

"Peter, you're a good student, one of the best in class. Falling asleep hasn't been a problem before." Mrs. Taylor had a concerned look on her face. "Is there something going on at home I should be worried about?" Peter almost laughed a bit, but he held it in. Yeah, he was a teenage superhero that apprehended criminals by night and learned about the American Revolution by day. Any person with half a heart would worry about him.

Peter grinned bashfully and just said. "Nah Mrs. T, I just didn't get a lot of sleep this week, with tests and all." This wasn't true. The only test Peter had this week was a maths test. And without studying, he had aced it. Although, Peter didn't want to make a habit of that. May made it clear that if his grades dropped below an A, Spider-Man was replaced with studying.

Mrs. Taylor plugged her lips and sighed. "Fine, you may go." Peter thanked her and started heading to the door. "Ah, ah, ah! Don't think you're getting out of detention young man!" Wincing, he turned on his heel to grab the dreaded detention pass.

-o-

Peter, having finally escaped social studies class, started to head to the lunchroom. Making his way slowly through the halls, Peter had plenty of time to think about what had happened in Social Studies. Turning into the lunchroom, his Spidey sense tingled and immediately Peter ducked. Overhead, where his head would have been flew an orange juice carton. It hit the other wall with a splat, spraying pulpy orange juice everywhere. Peter rushed away from the crime scene before a teacher could accidentally peg it on him.

He sat down at his usual, table and gave a quick hello to MJ. She grunted in response and turned back to her book. Peter took no offense to the blunt acknowledgment, it _was _typical MJ after all. Soon, Ned plopped down beside him, face shiny and flushed.

"Hey man! Sorry I'm late, someone knocked me down in the hallway and my essay spilled everywhere!" Peter grinned.

"Nah, that's ok, I just got here too." He showed Ned the pink slip under the table. Ned winced.

"Aw, Peter, what did you do?"

Peter explained as he ate his lunch. "I fell asleep in Social Studies."

"Again!"

"What do you mean again? I've only fallen asleep..." Peter counted on his fingers and sighed. "Three times"

Ned patted his friend on the back. "Sorry Peter. So, how's your-" He wiggled his eyebrows "-Stark Internship?"

Peter sighed, Ned was truly terrible at acting incognito. After Toomes, Peter had actually been doing a mostly normal internship at Stark Industries. Except that he was Mr. Stark's _personal intern_. Though the big title seemed special, most of the time Peter was doing the work of a normal intern. He doubted anyone other than Happy and Mr. Stark knew about his actual position. However, after school, every Thursday for two hours, Peter actually got to work with his hero. It was usually just improving Spider-Man's web fluid though. Not that it was boring! Peter just, wanted to work on _something else_ for a change.

"It's great, yesterday I-" he bolted up out of his seat, rattling the table and shaking his and Ned's trays. "Crap!". Several people at tables close to theirs stared at Peter with mixed expressions of annoyance and confusion. Blushing he quickly sat back down, face burning from embarrassment.

Turning back to Ned he frantically hissed under his breath."Ned, it's Thursday!" His best friend frowned.

"Yeah, why?"

"That's when I work with Mr. Stark!"

Finally realizing what Peter was implying, Ned gasped. "Dude! What will he say when you show up late? Can you even get into SI without Happy?"

Peter shook his head. "I don't know. But what will I tell him? I can't tell him I got a detention, then he would think I get in trouble too much. He might take away my suit again!"

Ned frowned. "Just tell Happy that you had decathlon practice and your staying after school. He'll probably just come later or something."

Peter sighed and pulled out his phone. "Thanks Ned."

Quicky unlocking it, he pulled up the chat and texted Happy a quick message.

**Spooder-Man:** _Hey Happy? I have emergency decathlon practice for an hour after school_.

Not knowing what else to say Peter put his phone away before a teacher saw it and he got in more trouble. A small pool of guilt slowly formed in his stomach, and grew faster when he got a text back from Happy.

**Happy Hogan:** ok

**Happy Hogan:** _I'll be waiting outside at 4_

Ned looked over at his friends phone. "Oh good he- crap! Mr. Morita's coming!" Peter quickly stuffed his phone into his jeans and started to shovel food into his mouth, trying to eat as much as he could before the bell rang.

-o-

Peter Parker walked out of Midtown High, squinting as the sunlight hit his eyes. The rest of school was as uneventful and boring as any other day. Flash had been particularly hard on him today, tripping him in gym class and calling him "Penis Parker" an excessive amount of times in the hallways. But now, the agonizing long detention was over and Peter was free!

Sure enough, an expensive, black car with tinted windows was waiting outside. Happy honked once, twice, and the teenager picked up his pace. Swinging open the car door, Peter slipped inside.

"Hey Happy." Peter's voice was duller than usual, and the grumpy, yet soft hearted bodyguard noticed that.

"What's wrong?"

Peter blinked, shocked. "W-what do you mean?"

"Usually you practically bounce in, talking a mile a minute, spewing your senseless word vomit." Happy turned towards the flabbergasted teenager. "You alright?"

"Oh, heh, yeah. I'm just tired, that's all." Happy frowned and studied Peter for a second longer. He shrugged and turned back to the wheel and started the car.

"If you say so kid."

After an awkward and silent ride, Peter was glad to get out of the suffocating car and out into the crisp November air. As he walked into Mr. Stark's lab, he heard a loud curse and the sound of glass breaking. Running around the corner, he stopped when he saw Tony surrounded by a shattered mug. It was the Ironman mug Peter got his mentor for Tony's birthday. It was meant to be sort of a joke, and Peter never expected him to use it for anything, but Tony had been extremely touched and now used it for everything. His morning coffee, his afternoon coffee, his evening coffee, his midnight coffee, his two in the morning coffee, his…

Tony had a _serious_ coffee problem.

The inventor stared at the broken momento and clumsily rubbed his hands a couple times against his exhausted face in a sad attempt to wake himself up. He cursed a couple more times and started the stumble away to the nearest closet to get a broom. Peter realized Mr. Stark hadn't noticed his presence yet.

"Um, M-mister Stark?" Tony whirled around.

"What the heck-, Peter?" The billionaire relaxed, realizing it was only his intern and started to walk over. "How was decathlon practice?"

Peter, still shellshocked blinked a couple times before he rediscovered his voice "Wha- Oh! Decathlon practice! Yeah! Um, it was good."

Tony nodded knowingly as he snatched a stake, half eaten bagel from one of the tables and ripped a bite of it. He pointed to Peter with the bagel, and mouth still full of food, he spewed out,

"Yeah, only you didn't have decathlon practice. I asked your principal and he said no 'emergency meeting' was scheduled for today" He poked Peters chest with the bagel. "Was detention boring?"

Peter opened and closed his mouth a couple times, completely flabbergasted. Mr. Stark and asked his principal about decathlon practice? Why the heck would he do that?

Tony grinned "Pete, you look like a fish."

Peter click when you shut his mouth with an audible click. His face felt hot with embarrassment for the umpteenth time today.

Tony waved his intern over to a metal work desk. "You can tell me about what you did while you help me with a new idea I've got. You know, I got quite a few detentions back in my days, there was that time when…

"_Sooo… yeah. I promise next one will not be Peter Parker. ( I mean, there's nothing wrong with that Spider-Man is my favorite superhero, but…) I have a really good idea and it might take me a bit longer to write it because the idea just has so much in it._

_Buuut…_

_You review moooorrreee…_

_I write moooorrreee!_


	5. Diamond Tears

_H-hey guys! *dodges the rotten vegetables* Sorry about the SUPER long wait, I have had a bad case of writer's block and procrastination. Ahyhoo, Spider-Man Far From Home was really good! It's also left me with a bazillion more questions and a lot more trust issues. And the Sony/Disney issue has been making me more depressed than usual. Thank heavens they're working together again. Anyways, enjoy!_

_Thank you to , FanGirlForever19, Korin no Hana, DreamCatcher06, I.D.'s Fantasy, SweetWritingIsMyLife, erinjoypangelinan, Hidden Circumstance, yupimstillhere, Sundance3.14, JaxketSniffer, Isabella Schumacher, TARDISblue13times, and Muscletomcat, for reviewing, favoriting or following! _

_As promised, this one is not about Peter Parker, instead it's our lovely Natasha Romanov!_

_**Word Five: Velvet**_

The Black Widow was on the prowl again. Her mission was simple, get in, kill him, and get out. The man in question was Dariusz Bogaty, a polish millionaire and illegal weapons dealer. S.H.I.E.L.D had caught some news about his deal with a budding terrorist organization, and had sent their bst agent to deal with it in the cleanest way possible. It was quite a pleasant coincidence that Mr. Bogaty was hosting a party at his private mansion in the countryside of Poland.

Natasha stepped out of the sleek black car and adjusted her necklace. It was time to blend in. She was not the hardened assassin, she was Peony Jackson, an American model famous for her long wavy blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. Pampered by her model mother and actor father, Peony grew up in luxury. Her parents wished for her to grow up out of the spotlight and the world had just learned about the elusive Peony Jackson.

The theme for the ball was velvet, and so Peony had dressed accordingly in a stunning dark green floor length dress with large teardrop earrings and necklace of only the finest diamonds available on the market. It looked like a goddess had cried diamond tears, as they were perfectly smooth and symmetrical. Climbing up the stairs in matching green velvet stilettos with golden ivy leaves climbing up the heels. Peony smiled as the men holding the doors open couldn't help but stare, mouths open and eyes wide

The young model stepped into the golden domed ballroom and was washed with a warm light. She smiled, breathing in the fluttering atmosphere and completely became Peony Jackson. Couples walked around, talking as silent waiters in black and white velvet coats flitted around the room, offering champagne and delicacies made by only the finest chefs. Everything seemed impossibly peaceful and happy, especially because of the number of diplomats and celebrities from an impressive amount of countries. Disagreements were bound to happen with most everyone talking quite freely. And alcohol always has the habit of loosening your tongue. Several people were already showing signs of being quite tipsy, laughing and talking a bit _too_ loudly.

A handsome young man in a smart burgundy velvet tuxedo stepped up to Peony with two delicate flutes of sparkling champagne.

"Good evening Mademoiselle, I don't believe I know who you are."

Peony laughed, a high clear sound that rang like a bell throughout the large room. "Oh! I'm Peony, Peony Jackson!"

He frowned and shook his head. Peony tried harder to spur his memory.

"I'm a model from America! I've modeled for Vogue! I-!"

"I'm sorry, I have never heard of you." The man's french accent became more pronounced as he became increasingly confused.

The young woman sighed dramatically and fluttered her voluminous eyelashes. "That's alright. To be honest, I don't even know who you are!" She giggled.

He gave her a charming grin. "I'm Samuel Du Bellay, my father's a french diplomat. Champagne?"

Peony grinned and accepted the glass. "Thank you! Isn't this party just wonderful?"

Samuel agreed. "Definitely! Such a welcome environment." He frowned. "For now..."

The two's attention was drawn to and older man with a truly impressive mustache waving his handkerchief frantically. Samuel laughed awkwardly.

"Yeah, that's my father. Well, it was nice to meet you Peony." the young woman gave him another giggle and waved. "Nice to meet you too Samuel."

The gentleman quickly walked off, and Peony was left on her own. Making her way to the tables where the waiters filled this trays with food and drink, she slipped the flute of champagne in her hand onto the tray of a stuffy looking waiter coming back for refills. Peony couldn't afford to have any alcohol in her system. She needed to be on guard at all times and in complete control of her body and mind. For the next couple hours she wandered around, chatting and giggling with the other guests at the party. Several more times she was offered alcohol, and each time she would graciously accept it with a seemingly tipsy giggle. But of course this, along with her whole character was fake. And somehow, the glass always made it back full, to another server's tray.

Finally, the host and Peony's target stepped up to the mahogany podium at the very end of the ballroom. He spread his arms wide, and with a bright white, perfect smile, greeted his guests.

"Welcome everyone, to Aksamitna piłka, my very own Velvet Ball!" The crowd calmly applauded, a perfect example of high aristocracy. "I thank you all for coming tonight, and thank you for making this enjoyable for me as well. Heaven knows how tedious it is hosting a party as big as this one!" The crowd laughed, many of them knew first hand how boring it was, the planning, the shipping, the exuberant costs. _Fun_.

Well he certainly was charismatic. But however nice he seemed, Peony knew that a lot darker acts bubble under the surface of his disguise like ugly black tar. No matter how handsome, how svelte, he was still an illegal weapons dealer. And he had to die.

Peony slowly made her way to the front of the ballroom, weaving in between velvet covered tables and groups of people. Dariusz was chatting with several people in his native Polish. Peony listened in, interested in knowing what her target was talking about.

"Tak, wiem, ale to nie znaczy, że nasza umowa nie zadziała" [Yes, I know, but that does not mean that our agreement won't work] Dariusz arruptly switched the topic. "Agora, o que você acha da minha festa?" [Now, what do you think of my party?] The gentleman nodded and murmured their complements. Peony frowned. What was the origin of the quick conversation change? She caught him glancing in her direction, and she realized it was her.

Giving a little wave, Peony made her way up to the young millionaire and smiled. "Hi, I'm Peony!" Dariusz smiled and nodded. Then in english with a thick polish accent,

"Good evening Peony, I am Dariusz Bogaty."

The young woman gasped. Oh, you're the one who invited me here! Father did say that you would look like... that." Her perfectly manicured index finger circled daintily over his expensive black velvet suit.

Dariusz expertly ignored the thinly veiled insult and turned to introduce the rest of the men in the group. He was surprised to see that four of the seven men had walked off, already bored. The three left looked unamused and Dariusz dismissed them with a little wave and a "Go enjoy the party!" He turned back to the young model and gave his most charming smile. "Now, where were we?"

-o-

Peony giggle once again as Dariusz ran a hand lightly down her face. A mere hour had gone by, and through heavy compliments and sweet talking, the millionaire believed he had the naive young model wrapped around his little finger. Unfortunately it's a lot harder to seduce a world renowned assassin than you would think. In fact, it was the other way around. With his defences down, Natasha had free will to do what she wanted.

Soon, more velvet clad servers swarmed in, carrying fancy wooden tables with cream coloured velvet tablecloths. A silver bell was rung and in streamed dozens of different dishes, sweet, savory, and more, carried high on the shoulders of even more black and white attendants. Everything smelled and looked sensational and Dariusz looked quite proud.

In no time at all the large ballroom was filled with the chatter of aristocrats and the clinking of silverware. Peony was at a seat next to Dariusz picking at her food and laughing at every joke and compliment out is his mouth. In a little while dinner was over, and as efficiently as the tables and dishes appeared, they were carried out.

Late into the night they flirted, talked and danced. Soon the guests started trickling out, getting into their waiting cars and driving off into the night. Peony quickly got up and apologized to Dariusz.

"Oh dear, it's late. My car should be here soon." Her host gently grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her back to his side. Wrapping his arm around her back, he lead her to the opposite side of the ballroom and away from the leaving guests.

"Don't worry about your car, it can wait. Why don't you come and enjoy the night breeze up on my balcony?" His voice was as smooth as honey and twice as sweet.

Peony giggled and let him guide her out a large doorway and up a grand spiraling set of marble stairs. Three doors up Dariusz stopped and turned down a wide hallway. Peony's heels clicked against the hardwood floor and in the otherwise complete silence they seemed as loud as a jackhammer. The millionaire opened an ornately engraved door and led them into a luxurious bedroom. It was huge, bigger than some apartments and had a lounge, bathroom and a large balcony open to the rolling mountains of Poland and the black velvety night sky.

Daiusz sat down on a charcoal chaise lounge and patted the spot next to him. Peony daintily perched on the edge and surveyed the room with a careful eye. Peony Rivers was looking at all the expensive art hanging in the room and the large television, but Natasha Romanov was scanning for security cameras and possible escape routes. And anything she could use as a weapon. Yes, Dariusz Bogaty better watch his back, because the Black Widow was on the prowl, and she had him right where she wanted.

Bogaty slowly got up, and strode to a mahogany bar on the other side of the room. selecting a large bottle from a hanging wine rack, he grabbed two glasses dangling below. Dariusz grinned, perfect white teeth flashing and twisted the neck to show his young guest the label. It was the colour of parchment with a flowing _St. Emilion_ in calligraphy on the front.

" A Cheval Blanc 1947, beautiful, isn't it?"

Peony frowned. "I've never heard of that."

Setting the two wine glasses on the table and popping the cork Dariusz poured two generous servings of the rich red wine. "Well then we shall fix that!" He raised his glass but frowned when the young woman didn't. She was staring out the large glass balcony doors with a frown on her petite pale face.

"There's, there's something out there." Dariusz saw it now, a flash of light from out near the Beskids. He slowly got up and walked towards the balcony. There it was again, quick, missable, but bright. Not even Peony knew where it came from, but it provided a perfect distraction. After all, half of assassin and spy work was improvisation. It was a dangerous dance of death. But it was balanced, graceful even.

Grasping the largest, center tear from her necklace, she quickly unscrewed the top of it. The diamond was as long as two thirds of her longest finger and had a microscopic slit around it. The top unscrewed from the bottom and in the hollow capsule inside were several drops of a crystal clear liquid. This was a lethal poison, specially designed by the finest S.H.E.I.L.D scientists. Only a few drops could kill a fit, full grown man and it was completely scentless and tasteless. Perfect for Peony's mission. Poring the poison into Dariusz's wine glass she screwed the cap back onto the hidden vial and attached back onto her necklace with tiny, but strong magnets.

Peony stuck her bottom lip out in a pout and called Dariusz back from his post at the porch window. "Oh Dariusz, why are you worrying about some silly light? Come, show me this wine that I've heard so much about." Reluctantly, pulled himself away from the window first road towards the lounge.

"Alright my dear, prepared to taste the best red wine of your life." They clinked glasses, but only one of them raised their glass to their mouth. Only one of them took a sip. Peony had winced, and reached down to unstrap her shoes. As Dariusz drank, she apologized.

"I'm sorry, my shoes have given me blisters. With great beauty comes great pain I suppose." She laughed her high tinkling laugh as the millionaire grasped his chest and froze, mouth moving but no sound coming out.

He forced out two words before his body submitted to the convulsions.

"Y-you bitc-"

He writhed, foam seeping out of the corner of his open mouth. Dariusz's eyes had rolled to the back of his head, but every now and then Peony saw flashes of his brown iris. She just watched him convulsing on the ground as she sat primly on the chaise lounge, smiling grimly.

And at last, after Dariusz Bogaty had taken his last gasping breath and his body had writhed with poison induced agony for the last time, Peony was done.

Natasha strode over to the balcony and pulled the light grey velvet curtains away from the door to the balcony. Opening the glass doors she took one last look at the corpse lying on the bedroom floor. She smiled.

Then without a trace, the Black Widow disappeared off the balcony. Her job was done.

-o-

_Fun fact, Dariusz means "wealthy" in polish. Quite a fitting name I believe! The Beskids are a beautiful mountain range near the border of Poland. What did you guys think of this point of view? With Natasha undercover, I wanted to immerse her completely in the role, that's why I called her Peony almost the entire time. I kind of wanted to make it seem like Peony and Natasha were two different people. Sorry this took so long, I have killer writers block right now and I've been dealing with some personal stuff at home. So as of now, I am going on a temporary hiatus. I don't know how long this will last, hopefully things at home will straighten up soon. Thank you to everybody who has read and supported this story so far. _

_Love you all,_

_-Chaos_


	6. Pop Tarts? Oh Come On!

_Happy holidays to all! This was supposed to be out before Christmas, but life. It's shorter than I liked, and Sam doesn't really fit his usual personality but what can a say? I got a story out. _

_Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Marvel franchise. This is purely for entertainment purposes and I do NOT make any money off of this._

_**Word Six: Illness**_

The rain was pouring down when the tired Avengers stumbled into the tower, soaking wet and exhausted.

Steve wiped his forehead and sighed. "Whew, that rain is coming down in buckets!"

Tony snorted, "More like bathtubs." Sam shot a glare at Tony and the hanger went uncomfortably quiet. Clint broke the silence with a loud _ahhhh_ and walked off, drying his hair with a towel as he did so.

Natasha sighed and walked off after him, looking at both Steve and Tony and shaking her head.

"Come on guys, I wasn't meaning to be a wet blanket! I'm just a wet Iron Man!"

Bruce wiped his glasses on his shirt and placed a hand in Tony's shoulder, steering him towards the hanger exit. "It's fine, let's just go dry off and eat."

Tony dutifully followed for a change, leaving Sam alone in the steel gray hanger, wet and pissed off.

-o-

A day later, and everyone was still moody. Tension hung over the team like a stormcloud and sooner or later, the cloud was going to burst.

It was mid-afternoon and Sam was in the kitchen making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Steve and Nat ware chatting and Tony was holed up in his lab. Minutes later, the eccentric inventor showed his face, and sauntered into the kitchen, only to open the fridge and grab a Coke. Pointing it in Sam's direction, Tony pulled a face.

"You know, I can never understand why people like peanut butter and jelly."

Sam annoyed scowled back. "Well how 'bout I shove it down your throat? We'll see how much you like it then." Steve tried to intervene, but the argument had already picked up speed. Tony took a step towards Sam, shoulders back, as if he was asserting his dominance.

"Yeah? I'd like to see you try that. All I make is a simple comment and you threaten to choke me? This is exactly why you can't work with us as a _team_." As he said that, Tony jabbed Sam in the chest none too gently.

Dead silence. Nobody was sure what was going to happen next.

And with a loud sneeze, Sam sprayed spit and snot on Tony Stark's face.

Stark sputtered and stumbled away from the offencive sneezer.

"Gosh, why the hell did you do that?!"

Sam waved his hands, exasperated. "You think I did that on purpose?"

Tony sighed and aggressively wiped his face in his shirt. "Okay, no… but you still sneezed on my face!"

The other avengers watched amused and Clint was laughing outright. Bruce had snuck in right before the sneeze, and though unsure what was going on, he still had a slight smile on his face. Whatever had made Tony flustered was sure to be funny.

A few more moments of glaring and Stark turned on his heel, stomping back off to his workshop, coke swinging back and forth in his clenched fist.

The kitchen was silent. A few minutes later, they heard a loud stream of curses and a slamming. Tony's soda had exploded, spraying carbonated sugar water all over his newest project. Bruce hurried to check on him, grabbing a roll of paper towels as an afterthought.

Sam shook his head and slumped down on a stool. "How is he mad at me? It was a _sneeze_, an accident!" Steve chuckled and patted the steaming Avenger on the back.

"It's fine, he'll calm down soon. Just let him tinker in that lab of his for a few hours and all will be forgotten."

All was not forgotten.

For the rest of the week, Tony gave everyone except Bruce the stink eye, especially Sam. Unfortunately for the young bird brain, the sneeze was not the extent of his maladies. Sam had caught a full blown cold, which morphed into the flu a couple days later. Steve had taken over the role of the "mom friend" forcing his friend to drink countless bowls of chicken soup and cups of ginger ale.

Sam didn't ming the ginger ale bit as much.

Insisting he was fine, the sick superhero tried to live normally, but Steve resisted like a brick wall. It seemed like every argument ended up with Sam on the couch, pouting and covered in a blanket.

But soon, to the dismay of Tony, his enemy had started to use the illness as a reason for special treatment.

Stomach ache? "Yeah, here's some soda and gummy bears."

Sore throat? "I'll make you some tea."

Stuffy nose? Maybe one of those newfangled steam machines will help! (that was Steve. Nobody else in the tower used words like "newfangled")

Headache? "Have some pop tarts!" Come on, how do pop tarts help with a headache?

Tony's jealousy grew and grew. It was bad enough that Sam sneezed _on his face_, but now he was getting special treatment? The injustice of it all!

Truth be told, It wasn't just Tony that was tired of Sam's antics. The rest of the team were fed up as well. Sam acted like an annoying puppy dog, begging for food and attention. His complaints and requests were beginning to be ignored and soon, Sam wasn't sick anymore.

-o-

Nobody had seen Tony for days, his lab door was locked and Jarvis wouldn't let anybody in. The only message he gave was- "I'm not coming out until _somebody_ apologizes."

It was pretty clear who that certain somebody was.

-o-

"What!? I am not _apologizing_! It was an accident!" Nat frowned.

"We have a mission tomorrow. On that we _need_ Tony's suit for. Just man up and apologize already."

"But I-"

"You sneezed in his _face_."

-o-

The mission went as well as it could, with a smug Ironman and a Falcon with broken pride. The team stumbled back into the hangar and started to put away gear. The quiet movement was broken with and explosive sound in Tony's direction.

"_ACHOO!"_

A collective sigh was emitted throughout the room. Not again.

_Well, what do you guys think? I'm not sure if I'll be able to update soon, but I'll try. Reviews and constructive __criticism__ are welcome, practically begged for!_

_Have a wonderful rest of the year!_

_\- Chaos_


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